The big event in State College this
week was the 55th annual book sale by the Penn State chapter of the
American Association of University Women.
It has been an annual event for our family since the 1970s, when the
sale was held in the HUB ballroom on campus. Even when we lived in Maryland, we
came back for the sale, which has since moved to the Snider Agricultural Arena
on the edge of campus, past the football stadium.
This
year, my prized find was My Mother’s
Music, Paul West’s memoir of growing up in England. Paul was my mentor as I worked on my baccalaureate
and master’s in English in the late sixties and early seventies. He introduced me to the magical realism of
Garcia-Marquez and Cortazar, Malcolm Lowry’s mix of autobiography and
symbolism, and other modern writers who helped me understand what the magic of
writing fiction was all about.
In My Mother’s Music, Paul tells of life with
his mother in the 1930s and during World War II. Trained as a classical pianist, Mildred West
had given up pursuing a musical career in favor of marriage and raising two
children in Derbyshire, giving piano lessons and playing for her own
satisfaction. But as he describes it,
Mildred gave Paul a gift by equating words to music. He writes, “I was finally forgiven for not
having made my boyhood’s music with her, not at the piano anyway; but we
certainly succumbed together to the music of words.”
Paul attributes
his own very personal style to his mother’s idea of “all art aspiring to the
condition of music.” His distinctive style made him a star in his
own right. Paul became known
internationally for his playful use of language to build a world that resonated
with layers of meaning when seen simultaneously from different perspectives. As he wrote in the memoir, “A lost analogy is
two universes wounded.”
Paul and his wife
Diane Ackerman, herself a Penn State grad who has become internationally
respected nature writer (most recently, The
Human Age), eventually left Penn State for Ithaca, New York. A few years back he suffered a stroke. She wrote about it in 100 Names for Love, a powerful memoir of
their life together and his recovery of the creative process after the
stroke. Paul died this past
October. I will miss him, but am glad to
have his words—his own music—to keep me company.